The Tree

In mirthless autumn fatigue,
I, the Tree, stand bare,
Stripped of my cover,
at the threshold of cold winter fare.
Seemingly tired and resigned,
To face up the inimical snow
Assumed that I'll end up dead.
Little does the winter know;
I am quietly at peace;
With my roots deep in the earth
and my branches devoid of leaves,
Gives me the balance and strength
To counter the icy chill...
I, in my countenance still,
know that just around the bend
with my tenacious calm,
I will walk winter to its end;
Giving way to lovely spring,
I will regain all my glory
Rustle and whisper sweet nothing
I will dance to the gentle breeze.
I know nothing touches me,
For I am rooted deep in my beliefs -
They are my branches that take me ashore,
When adversity had shipwrecked me.
Oh yes, I've experienced grief
several times before...
But, each time, at the other side of harm,
I had help, patiently waiting,
to take me, with its open comforting arms -
in His blessing: The hope of eternal Spring.